


It Takes Two

by NotPersephone



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bedannibal in Florence, F/M, Jealous Hannibal Lecter, another massage fic?, more likely than you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24984652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: “They have a couple massage on offer,” he announces with unforeseen excitement in his voice, glancing at her eagerly.“Are you sure it is something you would like to do?” she asks cautiously while taking a pistachio brioche from the tray, uncertain if he grasps the concept fully.
Relationships: Bedelia Du Maurier/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 24
Kudos: 40
Collections: electric-couple prompts





	It Takes Two

The glossy brochure is placed neatly between her morning cup of coffee and the plate of freshly baked brioches, an unforeseen addition to his usual offerings. Whisking away the remainders of sleep from her eyes, Bedelia lifts herself up to sit straight, propping the pillow behind her back, before reaching for the paper. Three elegant letters twist on its front, their slanted flow bringing promise of a peaceful rest: SPA. Bedelia’s brow furrows as her eyes follow the text beneath. The stylish brochure is advertising a five-star resort in the Lake Como area; it is not a reading material she expected. Purposely setting it next to her breakfast was clearly his way of indicating interest in visiting.

A peculiar choice.

She knows Hannibal is a creature of all kind of leisure, but she finds it hard to imagine him in a fluffy robe and slippers, trailing between treatment rooms. And allowing strangers to look after his well-being in a process. She turns the front page and the full glamour of the resort enfolds in form of numerous photographs and an extensive list of treatments, with glowing reviews to match. Bedelia gives them a cursory glance, flicking through the printed content. The place gives off air of quiet exclusivity, a welcome respite in midst of a bustling touristic region. Finally, the last two pages of the booklet offer a glimpse of the surroundings, an impressive view of the lake spanning from the windows of the resort.

An idea of a spa day did not cross her mind, but the prospect does seem appealing. Bedelia puts the brochure down and reaches for her cup of coffee, the picturesque view of the lake tempting her with its endless blues and greens while she takes a sip of her drink, the bitter notes settling pleasantly on her tongue. She continues to glance at the photograph on her lap as the mattress shifts slightly.

“What do you think?” an arm slips around her waist as Hannibal joins her in bed.

“I appreciate the addition of cinnamon, thank you,” Bedelia takes a last sip of her coffee and places an empty cup on the tray.

Hannibal chuckles, pulling her closer and placing a kiss on her temple; he takes immense pleasure in her teases. Bedelia hums in appreciation of a caress but remains silent, waiting for him to bring up the subject he has in mind.

“What are your thoughts on the resort?” he does so without delay, eagerness shining through his eyes as he takes the brochure from her.

“It looks very pleasant,” she says simply.

“Pleasant enough to warrant a visit?” he presses on in tandem with his hand, stroking the side of her waist.

“A visit?” a soft smile plays about her lips.

“Yes, I was thinking about a weekend away,” he returns the smile, the gleam in his eyes gaining lustre, “We could enjoy some physical indulgences.”

Bedelia raises her eyebrow; she hardly thinks it is needed. After all, he ensures her mind and body are looked after in equally throughout manner. But she does find an idea of a change of scenery tempting.

“I did not take you for a spa enthusiast,” she questions him still, the unusual proposal begging to be studied further.

“I appreciate all forms of leisure,” he responds, “But I thought this is something you might enjoy.”

Bedelia’s neck feels warm as the blood rushes to her face; the notion of someone putting her needs before theirs is still novel to her and manifests with an unexpected quiver in her chest.

“I would,” she admits, not without hesitation, feeling the heat dashing up her cheeks.

Hannibal’s smile lights up as though with a flick of a matchstick.

“That is settled then,” he concludes with glee, “I will make the arrangements today,” he seals the agreement with another kiss on her temple.

“Are you sure you can leave the museum unattended for two days?” she teases him anew, but her smile betrays her merriment.

“The assistants can handle things in my absence,” he pronounces with surprising conviction.

Her smile twists in amusement; she knows he does not mean it which makes her appreciate the gesture even more.

“All right,” she turns her head to look at him better, her hand reaching out to stroke his jaw, “I look forward to it.”

As promised, Hannibal makes the reservation that very day, securing the biggest suite for the following weekend, the short notice being no match for his unparalleled organising skills. Bedelia finds herself awaiting the date, the anticipation of a luxurious repose mixing with excitement of seeing Hannibal in such an atypical setting.

When Friday finally arrives, there is a near spring in her step as she makes her way down the stairs, an overnight bag in her hand. She might have over packed, but she wanted to be prepared for any occasion, not knowing the full extent of Hannibal’s plans.

She finds him already waiting for her outside, leaning casually next to the convertible he has leased for the occasion, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, two top buttons undone, appearing as though he just stepped out of a Fellini picture. He smiles widely when he sees her, only adding to the illusion; she can see him appraising her own outfit, peach coloured summer dress and widely brimmed hat. It is very modest compared to the string of couture dresses lined up in her wardrobe, but she can see in his star-stricken eyes that it is equally, if not more, appealing.

“ _Perfecto_ ,” he complements her as he takes the bag out of her hand and places it in the small trunk of the car.

“ _Grazie_ ,” is all she manages to utter while he opens the car door for her, not considering this plain outfit worthy of such praise. Yet, it makes her blush all the more.

Hannibal manoeuvres his way through the narrow streets of Florence with remarkable ease and as soon as they pass the last bridge spanning across Arno, the urban scenery gives way to the luscious greens of the Tuscany hills. Holding her hat in place, Bedelia inhales deeply, enjoying the fragrant air swirling around her, suddenly finding herself in the same glamorous movie, a technicolour dream of romance come true. It was never her dream to have but now she relishes every moment of it.

The journey passes all too quickly, but Bedelia’s near regret vanishes as they pull up at the entrance to the hotel. No sooner than Hannibal switches off the engine, they are surrounded by hotel attendants all too eager to take their bags and look after the car.

“I think we will really enjoy this,” Hannibal pronounces with a self-pleased smile of a choice well made as they enter the lobby.

The jovial manager welcomes them in melodic Italian, then immediately switches to English, no doubt for Bedelia’s benefit. A shadow of a smile passes over her lips; she senses Hannibal’s foresight. He really does consider everything.

“We have a selection of wonderful treatments, many suitable for a couple,” the man proclaims with pride as he escorts them to their room, his attentiveness undoubtedly related to Hannibal’s special requirements and the hefty rate paid to ensure they are met.

“We are looking forward to that,” Hannibal beams with genuine excitement while turning his head to look at Bedelia, appearing as nothing more than a knowing gesture between a married couple.

She raises her eyebrow in response to his enthusiasm; the concept of couple related activities has never been something she was interested in. Yet here she is now, already indulging in one. And it does not feel unwelcomed.

They arrive at the door of their room and the manager opens it with flourish, reversing back to Italian in his farewell and gratitude as Hannibal offers him a generous tip.

Bedelia walks in and smiles in appreciation. The large suite, composed of a bedroom and sitting room, is overlooking the lake. There is a large bouquet of irises, her favourite flowers, placed on the table in its middle, together with a bottle of champagne cooling in an ice bucket.

“You thought of everything,” she says with another half-smile as her fingers graze the flower arrangement. “What is our plan for the next two days then?” she turns to look at him as he already busies himself with opening the bottle.

“Not everything,” the pop of the cork marks his point, “We can do anything that strikes your fancy.” He pours two glasses and offers her one, the bubbles fizzing in tempo with his gleaming eyes.

“Although, I have secured a private use of the sauna,” he adds ever so casually with another flicker in his eyes.

Bedelia’s lips turn up in a half smile while she takes a sip of the champagne. _Of course, he has._

“If it strikes my fancy?” she baits him, twirling her glass with merriment.

“Of course, anything you like,” he reassures her at once, emptying his drink in one mouthful and moving to encircle her back with his arms.

“Tomorrow then,” she continues to smile as she sets her glass aside and allows herself to give into his embrace.

“There is a rather spacious bathroom here as well,” the fingers begin to press against the small of her back in a tempting manner, “If _you_ would like to wash up after the journey.” His smile turns devilish as his fingers continue to play out the melody of seduction on the line of her spine.

“I believe what you are proposing might be contra productive to the notion of clean,” she teases him anew even though her body has already given into his caresses, a foregone conclusion.

“We can do both,” he tilts his head with pretended deliberation, “It is our leisure time, after all.”

“We can,” she concedes with a smile as he leans forward to kiss her.

She wakes up late the following morning, wrapped up in Hannibal’s embrace, profound sensation of comfort seeping through her body and mind, one she no longer fights or tries to reason with.

“Good morning,” he murmurs into her skin, alert at the first signs of her awakening, “Breakfast?”

She sighs and stretches her limbs, cheek pressing further against his chest as she turns her head to look at him.

“Yes, please,” her voice is still coarse with the remnants of sleep, but it is more than audible to him.

“I will see to it,” he states surely and smiles, gently untangling himself from her body and making sure she rests comfortably against the pillow before leaving the bed.

The loss of his warmth and solace causes Bedelia to frown unexpectedly, but she tries not to let herself linger on the sentiment. And she does not need to; the room service is swift, and their breakfast arrives in no time, making her abandon the soft covers in favour of the aroma of freshly pressed coffee.

Soon, she is sitting opposite Hannibal on the spacious terrace, wrapped in a long soft robe, the exact scene she found herself so hard to imagine before. The selection of fruits and pastries is laid on the table between them, a feast of colours and fresh tangs inviting to be sampled.

“That is an impressive assortment indeed,” wearing a matching robe, one leg crossed over the other, Hannibal peruses the treatment catalogue. The fuzzy cotton is strangely becoming on him.

Bedelia is certain he has already committed the full list to memory, even before their departure, but faints ignorance to warrant her engagement. She simply nods, drinking her coffee, waiting for his play to unfold.

“They have a couple massage on offer,” he announces with unforeseen excitement in his voice, glancing at her eagerly.

Bedelia’s looks up from her cup with a questioning tilt of her head. The subject Hannibal was gradually steering towards has finally been revealed; it seems that unlike her he is thrilled with a chance to participate in activities designed for two, even if they are nothing more than a clever marketing trick.

“Are you sure it is something you would like to do?” she asks cautiously while taking a pistachio brioche from the tray, uncertain if he grasps the concept fully.

“Yes,” he responds all too keenly, setting the catalogue down and reaching for his own coffee with a constant smile on his lips, uncaring that it has gone cold in the meantime.

Biting into her pastry, Bedelia deliberates over his elation and what makes this an enticing prospect in his mind.

“Unless you do not want to,” Hannibal adds swiftly, a brief shadow of perturbation dimming the flashes in his eyes.

The corner of Bedelia’s lips curls up instantly; the concern for her enjoyment taking priority over his more than obvious want reawakens the strange flutter in her heart.

“No, that sounds agreeable,” she reaches for a piece of mango and savours it unhurriedly.

She will not pass on an opportunity of a professional massage. And a chance to see Hannibal participating in the activity is a fine bonus.

The shadow in Hannibal’s gaze lifts with a breeze.

“Excellent,” he beams anew, taking a piece of fruit himself, his fingers stretching playfully as he does so, “I will reserve a session for this morning.”

A conclusion reached, they continue with their breakfast in pleasant silence, enjoying the beams of sun stretching across the clear surface of the lake.

Once they finish, Hannibal goes to the lobby and Bedelia decides to take advantage of the resort’s pool. It is surprisingly empty, and she relishes the tranquillity of the space and water. She is certain Hannibal made the arrangements in no time at all, yet he does not join her right away, respecting her need for solitude, the consideration she very much appreciates. It makes her all the gladder when he finally appears by her side, taking leisurely laps.

Once they have had their fill of the pool, they take a brief shower, with Hannibal being strangely restrained and well behaved, before making their way to the appointed hour of the massage. Engulfed in the white cotton afresh, this time with slippers to match, they proceed to the treatment area of the hotel. They pass few other guests, all sporting similarly cushy outfits, adding to the surreal nature of the experience, as if they somehow stepped into a bizarre parallel universe where the highest order of fashion is white oversized robes.

They arrive at the door and enter the ample and airy room, decorated in earth tones. Bedelia takes in the calming space with appreciation. Gentle music flows from somewhere in the back, adding to the dreamlike atmosphere; luckily, it is not loud enough to warrant her annoyance. The scent of essential oils permeates the air, noticeable yet not overbearing, just like the music. Bedelia inhales deeply, admiring the successful exercise in moderation. Two massage beds are waiting in middle of the room, all draped in white, fresh towels placed on their top, with two young men standing behind them, both decked in matching white, the defined muscles of their arms stretching beneath the cotton of their short sleeved shirts. Two rather attractive men; undoubtedly meant to serve as a bonus treat for the guests. Bedelia glances at Hannibal to see what he makes of their appearance, but he seems to be too animated with the premise to take their allure in fully.

“Welcome,” one of the men greets them and extends his arm in invitation to come in further.

Hannibal takes a keen step forward, with Bedelia walking just behind, surveying his enthusiasm. He slows down as they approach the foot of the beds, allowing her to choose her preference. Bedelia stifles a smile; it suddenly feels as though they are deciding on their sleeping arrangements anew. Almost instinctively, she moves towards the bed on the left, corresponding with her sleeping side, even though the circumstances differ completely.

“Please lie down on your backs,” the first man carries on, hand motioning to the towel covered beds in front of them.

Hannibal takes his spot all too eagerly and Bedelia follows in his steps, finding his verve perplexing still but endearing, nonetheless. She lies down on the covers, soft in their inviting comfort and rests her head on the folded towel placed on top of the bed.

“We will start with relieving the tension in the head and neck,” the man behind her speaks more quietly now, already encouraging relaxation.

Warm fingers rest on her temples and she closes her eyes, enjoying the sensation. Tender circles are being drawn on her skin, fingers moving across the sides of her forehead, then to the back of her head, alleviating the tension she did not know she had, making her head feel light and weightless.

It maybe be that the massage was a good idea, after all.

She wonders what Hannibal makes of the experience so far and if it continues to live up to his expectations; she wishes she could steal a glance in his direction, but she cannot do so without compromising her stillness.

“Please keep your head unmoving if possible,” the voice of the other masseur reaches her ears from behind of the adjoining bed. Hannibal appears to have had the same wondering but did not restrain his curiosity.

This time Bedelia lets a soft smile settle on her lips, easily mistaken for a reaction to the masseur’s skilled ministrations. Her features remain soft as the back of her neck turns pliant under the trained fingers, removing any knots they find on their way. The hands circle back to the front of her head, movements becoming slower and sparser, indicating a nearing end. And soon enough, the fingers move away, the man’s calm voice bringing her back to the present moment and the next part of treatment to come. She turns her head to the side, finally being able to glance at Hannibal; she finds him already looking in her direction and smiling brightly, his eyes glazed with the effects of the massage but sharp still. It seems that the experience is what he has hoped for.

_So far._

“Please remove your rob and lie down on your stomach,” the man speaks softly, then moves towards the foot of the bed, looking away while holding up a towel to cover Bedelia with and offering her privacy in the meantime. Hannibal’s masseur mirrors the gesture, bringing the barrier of the towel up to shield them further.

The light in Hannibal’s eyes dims unexpectedly as if extinguished by a gush of awareness. The piece of understanding he has somehow mislaid before now falls into its place with a crushing comprehension.

Bedelia sits up, unties her robe and is ready is slip it off when a sudden flinch in Hannibal’s cheek draws her attention.

“Are you all right?” she asks quietly, not wanting to alert the attentiveness of the therapists.

To her surprise, he does not reply, his usual good manners forsaken, merely offers her a curt nod then averts his gaze and proceeds to disrobe, his gestures as strained as his face, his keenness all gone. Bedelia’s brow creases with unanswered queries, but this is not an appropriate time, or setting, to question him further. She places the inquest in the back of her mind for later deliberation and returns to the task at hand, removing her robe. Despite his gaze pointing elsewhere, she senses Hannibal glancing at her ever so often; each glance is filled with more apprehension than the one before, as she now sits almost naked on the bed. Yet when she looks back at him, he swiftly returns to undoing his own sash, eyes away. Whatever is troubling his mind at present, he does not wish for his disquiet to be overly obvious. He discards the robe aside and lies back down while the masseur promptly covers his behind with the towel. Hannibal’s head turns to the side as he presses his cheek against the towel, eyes now pausing on her. The gaze flares up as she brushes the robe off her shoulders then sharpens and shifts to the man behind her bed, head straining in its restricted view, as if wanting to ensure the masseur continues to look away as intended. His check-up must have proven satisfactory and his head returns to its resting spot, gaze falling back on Bedelia. Amused by his exaggerated concern, she ignores his stares and lies back down on the massage bed. New flames are ignited in Hannibal’s eyes as the man puts the towel on Bedelia’s bottom. She rests her head on the folded towel, turning to face him as well, giving his perplexing state a throughout survey.

The scent of oils becomes stronger as the masseurs reapply the liquid to their palms. The aroma invites her to breath deeper as warm hands rest on her shoulders. She can see Hannibal’s masseur doing the same but is not certain if Hannibal registered the return of hands to his body as he remains staring at her with strange mixture of confusion and upset. The fingers begin to move anew, the touch firmer now that more effort is needed to loosen the solid muscles. Bedelia sighs softly as the man targets a particularly hard knot above her shoulder blade, bringing her instant relief. The uncertainty in Hannibal’s eyes turns into alert. The sound cannot be considered in any way inappropriate, hardly louder than a deep exhale, but Hannibal has never heard her uttering it in any other setting than their intimate moments, bringing obvious correlation to his mind. No matter how absurd the connection is, he looks genuinely crestfallen, the notion of someone else being privy to hearing it brewing a storm within his thoughts.

Bedelia turns her head to the other side, hiding a blooming smile, not wanting to add to Hannibal’s misery. She closes her eyes and tries to give into the sensation of professionally trained hands kneading the tension away from her shoulders. She thinks she will not be able to, with Hannibal’s troubled stare burning mere inches away, but repose comes easily to her as if the amusement helped to unwind her mind and body in tow. The man’s hands proceed further, now massaging her back. Another soft sigh resonates in the back of her throat as a loop she did not know existed untwists in the lower part of her back. The sound is hardly audible to her alone, but she can hear a sudden shift on the bed next to her, followed by barely disguised groan. Bedelia does not turn, her head sinking deeper into the soft towel, the serenity taking over her, but she can easily imagine Hannibal’s frown and his muscles tensing, the opposite reaction to the purpose of this treatment.

“Your shoulders and back are very tight,” his massage therapist confirms her predictions, rather oblivious in his observations. Or perhaps purposely ignoring his client’s strange disconcert, the professionalism shining through instead.

Bedelia finds herself smiling anew as Hannibal offers no response, merely exhaling loudly. She is certain the masseur has now doubled his efforts to work on his knots, a battle he is sure to lose; she feels almost sorry for the man. On the contrary, her body is falling deeper and deeper into a relaxed drowse. The hands on her back move down again, now resting just above her hips, and a muffled whimper reaches her ears.

This time, she turns her head to look at Hannibal and, as expected, finds anguish reflected on his face. His eyes widen when he sees her face, deep purple colouring his skin. She blinks slowly as she assesses his unbecoming, her eyelids heavy as the masseur’s hands continue to ease her body into a state of complete peacefulness. Hannibal shifts awkwardly on the bed as if unable to find a comfortable resting position.

“Excuse me,” he says sharply, grasping at the towel covering his behind and clutching it tightly in front of him as he sits up.

His reflexes might be swift but Bedelia still manages to spot his arousal. She does her best not to let her surprise show, the calmed muscles of her face serving as a perfect cover for her wonderment. He grasps his robe and puts it on with haste, pulling it tightly around his body. Her eyes follow his rapid departure, leaving his masseur standing stunned by the bed where his client was mere seconds ago. The man is surely questioning the extent of his fault and the lack of his skills, unnecessarily so. Bedelia wonders if she should alleviate his unjustified perturbation, but she cannot do so without giving Hannibal’s indiscretion away. She settles for briefly closing her eyes as she tries to gather her thoughts, analysing everything that has just taken place, while giving into the sensation of the man’s hands for few more seconds. To his credit, he has not let the sudden occurrence disrupt his task. She must remember to leave a stellar review. But his skills are for nought as her body is tensing in tandem with her preoccupied mind, scrutiny giving way to her increasing worry about Hannibal. She moves slowly, giving the man the time to pause and remove his hands from her body, before she sits up, pulling the sheet with her to cover herself up.

“I apologise for the abrupt departure,” she addresses both men but looks mostly at the still confused masseur who had the misfortune of looking after Hannibal. They both nod and smile, professional to the end. “I will see if my husband is all right,” she says, the word once so foreign, sliding off her tongue with pleasant ease. She finds she means every word.

Her masseur offers her the robe without delay and both men turn as she puts it on. As she leaves the room, she takes a mental note to leave a generous tip for them both later. But now, she has a more pressing issue at hand.

She finds Hannibal back in their suite, standing tensely next to the balcony door. Walking in without a word, she stands next to him, giving him a glance of quiet concern.

“Are you all right?” she asks with care, her head tilting aside as she appraises his stance. 

“I am fine,” he says curtly, looking ahead and avoiding meeting her eyes.

Despite the robe wrapped loosely around his body, the outline of his erection is clearly visible beneath the layer of thick cotton. His face is contracted, betraying deep conflict of thoughts, making for the most bizarre of contradictions. Yet somehow, he looks endearing in his state of complete unsettle. A soft smile forms on her lips as she takes a step closer and places a hand on his shoulder. She feels the muscles flinching once beneath the fabric but then his body gives into her touch, relaxing ever so slightly.

“You left rather hastily,” she presses on gently.

“I am sorry I have disrupted your _pleasure_ ,” he responds, half courtesy, half mockery, his mouth twisting with distaste as he undoubtedly recalls the scene in his mind.

Bedelia presses her lips together to suppress new surge of amusement.

“You have not,” she says calmly, hand on his shoulder pressing gently. She feels his muscles relax further, but he still appears like a cornered tiger, confused and posing a threat, mostly to himself.

He finally turns his head to looks at her, a brief glimpse, as if afraid to notice the afterglow of the presumed pleasure lingering on her skin. This time Bedelia does not stop a chuckle falling from her lips. She takes a step forward to face him fully, and make him face her in turn, the hand on his shoulder now moving to rest on his chest. His heart beats surely against her palm, responding to her care.

“It was _your_ idea, Hannibal,” she remarks slowly, letting each word fall into place as though explaining a complex concept to a child. And perhaps, in the way she is.

“Yes, I know,” he responds, surprisingly agreeable. His eyes meet hers at last, harrowed by his own brooding.

Her smile turns softer as she looks over his crestfallen face. He is strangely winsome in his anguish. Bedelia’s hand strokes his chest anew, feeling the heat radiating through her palm; she expect it to be scorching, given his state of mind, but it is pleasant and welcoming, as always.

“I understand if you wish to make arrangements for another session,” he offers, with surprising remorse, “A _single_ session,” his gaze darts aside and the muscles in his jaw twitch faintly as he stifles yet another pang of jealousy and despair.

“No, that is quite all right,” she responds, her smile reflecting her ongoing delight.

His eyes finds hers anew, burning with dejection and regret. He falls silent anew, preparing for her next words of presumed dismissal.

“Perhaps we should limit the rest of the couple activities,” she says softly, and his gaze turns sorrowful before she gets a chance to express all her thoughts. It is the rejection he expected but does not find it any less painful. Bedelia smiles afresh as she watches his enfolding distress, reaching new depths of his own making. She could let him simmer in his own misery but does not find it in her heart to torment him further. “Limit to just the two of us,” she finishes, tilting her head as her true intention sinks within him.

His recovery is immediate. The light in his face shines anew, the weight of his torment lifting from his shoulders. Bedelia feels his heart giving a hopeful thud, reverberating through her hand.

“The private sauna is ours to use whenever we want to,” he offers slowly, still careful but unable to restrain his renewed willingness.

“If you think it will help to relieve your _tension_ ,” she baits him with a kittenish half smile, hand pressing firmer against his chest.

“It just might,” his arm slips around her waist, hips pressing forward, his arousal still sturdy despite his agitation.

“And there is also the matter of my _disrupted pleasure_ ,” she carries on, fingers trailing the line of his shoulders nonchalantly.

“I will see to it,” he pulls her firmly against his body to express his dedication to the cause, “Repeatedly.”

Bedelia smiles. She is starting to appreciate the allure of couple related pastimes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is not by any means a continuation of my previous massage fic (I still need to work on one where Hannibal makes good on his promise), but this seemed like a fun idea and I do not think I have ever written Bedelia's POV with a jealous Hannibal trope. Just a little inside into her thoughts for a refreshing change. It has also been awhile since I have written Florence arc, hope I still know how!  
> Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving me a comment if you liked it, it really means the WORLD to me. Stay safe everyone ♥


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